Page 106 of The Wicked

A decision I quickly regretted. To call Easton lazy was an insult to slobs everywhere. The Baldwins had a cleaner, but either someone had told her not to bother with the room of doom, or she’d taken one look inside and suffered a nervous breakdown.

“How does a person live like this?” Gracie asked. “How long have those plates been in here?”

“Six months, give or take.” It was hard to tell whether they were covered in mould or just dust. “We should have brought respirators.”

Easton hadn’t heard of a laundry hamper either, and mountains of dirty clothes had been abandoned by the windows. We were meant to put everything back exactly as we’d found it, but in this hovel, that would be impossible. I nudged one pile with my foot. Damn Seth Harless for forcing me into this position.

“Why are there so many wadded-up tissues on the floor? Did your cousin have hay fever or something?”

“Trust me—you don’t want to know. I’m gonna owe the guys so much beer after this.”

“I’ll buy them a whole brewery.”

They’d deserve it. I couldn’t wait for the day when I never had to set foot in this house of horrors again. We shifted the detritus of Easton the Third’s life in lumpy piles, and the men came to do their thing.

Then my phone rang. Parker.

“The good news is that the twins are still tied up discussing table decorations. The bad news is that EJ’s a better electrician than he is a father, and he’s on his way back from North Bend. You have thirty minutes.”

“Shit!”

My time with Garrett had changed me in many ways—my language had certainly gotten fouler.

“What’s up?” Luca asked.

“EJ will be back in a half hour.”

He stood, screwdriver in hand. “That’ll be cutting things mighty fine. Stay or go?”

Why did I have to choose? Each decision I’d made lately turned out to be a bad one. But everyone was staring at me. And the clock was ticking.

“Stay. If we leave this room a mess, nobody will notice.”

Practice makes perfect.The men went to work with a vengeance, Luca and Aaron lifting floorboards, Colt and Deck replacing them. They’d made it almost as far as the en-suite when Luca stilled.

“Hey, what’s this?”

I practically climbed onto his back in an attempt to look. It was a hard drive. A small, portable hard drive, definitely not something that should have been lurking under the floor in my dumbass cousin’s room. Luca handed it to me, then slotted the board back into place and grabbed an electric screwdriver. If speed carpentry ever became a thing, my money would be on this team. They were a well-oiled machine.

“Easton the Turd should get another ten years for the state of this room,” Blue muttered. “It’s a crime scene.”

My phone rang again, and this time, it was Jack Morrow. “A black Toyota just turned into the driveway, ma’am. Looks like a middle-aged gentleman behind the wheel.”

I threw the last pile of clothing in the direction of the nearest window. “EJ’s home. Run.”

“Head for Sara’s old room,” Blue ordered. “We’re helping her to pack the last of her belongings, understand?”

EJ opened the front door as I reached the bottom of the stairs with an armful of books. The others followed carrying clothes, knick-knacks, a nightstand, and the comfy little overstuffed armchair that I loved to curl up in and read.

My darling uncle just scowled. “Don’t take anything that doesn’t belong to you.”

“I won’t.”

That hard drive had absolutely been meant for me.

Parker meandered past as I crossed the hallway. “Any luck?” he murmured.

“Yes, and thank you.”

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